


Between A Rock And...

by StarkRogers



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Dom/sub Play, Femininity, Fingerfucking, Insults, M/M, Rimming, Switching, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-01
Updated: 2012-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkRogers/pseuds/StarkRogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Copyright: This is an original work of fiction. Sherlock Holmes is public domain, making this piece of work legally mine. You may not reproduce or publish this work on any site or in any journal or any other form of media without my permission. </p><p> </p><p>Older work.</p><p>Based on this kinkmeme prompt: http://shkinkmeme.livejournal.com/9194.html?thread=19845866#t19845866</p><p>Watson comes home to see Holmes stuck in a dress. Rather than let him out immediately, Watson has a bit of fun. Includes the following: knife play, cross dressing, feminization, and a touch of bdsm with switching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between A Rock And...

Holmes was standing there, although at first I did not recognize him. Then he turned to me and I realised the strange woman in Holmes' bedroom was the detective himself. He was squeezed into a very familiar looking dress, which strained at the waist and shoulders to contain his masculine form. A corset peeked out from beneath the back of the dress where he had unsuccessfully attempted to close the eyehooks that trailed up the seam.

I stood breathless for a few moments in shock, unaware my jaw had dropped open, until he finally spoke.

"Don't just stand there like a fool. Assist me." His voice nearly threw me into another shock, as it contained none of its usual baritone forcefulness. It had a breathy shallow sound, caused no doubt by the incredibly tight corset around his waist. His voice was almost fragile sounding.

Furthermore, I realised he was unable to walk across the room and demand my help physically because he was clinging to the banister of the bed for dear life, with strong hands thrust into delicate lace gloves, his balance thrown off by the high heeled boots he'd tied onto his ankles. All in all, his behavior was very un-Holmes like in every way.

"Watson?" That shallow voice broke me out of my reverie once more and I saw he was glaring at me. I took a few steps into the room and he turned towards me further, grasping the banister from behind with one gloved hand, his fingers clenching tighter than was necessary, for the lace was sliding against the well varnished wood. His hands were both held below his waist, and I saw as I came closer it was because he couldn't move his shoulders. The dress was far too tight; already I could see the seams at the shoulders tearing from where he had no doubt tried to lift his arms to remove the dress before discovering he was quite trapped in its satin grip.

There must have been something dark in my eyes as I approached, because his already precarious grip on the banister tightened, and he reflexively brought up an arm to stop me. Unable to raise him arm completely, the gesture was transformed into something delicate and vulnerable. His hand pressed against my stomach and I stopped, amused and undeniably turned on by his shallow, quick breaths. The look of the lace glove against the dark fabric of my suit was incredible, especially when I thought of whose hand was inside the glove.

"I do think that's quite enough, Doctor," Holmes said, but any force behind his voice was lost due to his compressed ribcage. I was always taller than him, and though the heels gave him an inch or two of height, I still towered over him. He glared up at me, his brown eyes seething from beneath his long lashes, his face flushed with the effort it was taking him to remain upright with any kind of dignity.

"You look like a whore."

I may as well have slapped him. My voice didn't sound like my own, so deep and rough. It was Holmes' turn to stare in shock, his pretty lips breaking apart with a gasp, his eyes widening. I grabbed his chin and took his mouth with my own. I felt his hand against my stomach clench, gripping my coat and holding on for balance as I pressed forward. He returned my kiss for a moment and then pushed against me feebly, his incredible strength stunted by the prison of the dress. He gasped against my lips, trying to fend me off.

"This is… hardly the time… doctor!" He had to draw a breath in between every few words and it was almost more than I could stand. I slipped a hand around his corseted waist, so small and frail, the boning surely digging in painfully against his skin. I pressed farther forward until he had no choice but to lean into my arm, and then, with him completely off balance, I let go.

He fell down to the bed with a gasp, and I wasted no time in discovering to what lengths he had gone with the undergarments. He struggled to sit up but could gain no leverage with his arms, and the shudder I sent through his body by tracing my fingers up the inside of one stocking-clad thigh surely did not help. He wore no knickers I found, just the stockings, leaving him indecently exposed as I lifted away the skirts. I chuckled a what I saw there, for he was already half hard and growing firmer by the second.

"You enjoy looking like a whore, do you?" I asked, and he continued to squirm, trying to shove the skirts back down around his thighs. I stood up and then leaned over him, taking in his confused face, which couldn't decide if it wanted to glare, or gasp wantonly against my mouth.

"Do you know what gentlemen like myself do with whores?" I asked softly, trailing my lips down to his ear. He shuddered and attempted to answer, his words skipping around like a stone on water.

"I-- Watson, this is-- Just get me out!"

I laughed quietly against his neck and slipped my tongue under the high, lacy collar. He trembled, holding back a groan and then gasping for breath. His hands flexed against my stomach, gripping my jacket as he squirmed beneath me, my continued ministrations against his neck drawing further sounds from his mouth, more shallow light gasps and whimpers. I drew my hand down between his legs and felt him through the skirts. He was fully hard and ready now, and at my touch he gave a breathy moan and thrust up his hips into my palm.

"That's a good little slut," I hissed, and his body shook as if electrified. I reached up and drew my hands around his waist, lifting him up from the bed bodily. He sighed in relief - a bit prematurely, as my next move was to shove him to his knees on the floor. He tried clinging to the bottoms of my trousers for support, but it was only my hand buried in his thick brown hair that prevented him from falling.

"You know how these things work, Holmes. You render services, and I pay you. In this case, by helping you out of that dress."

Holmes glared at me but the look was completely ineffectual when he was on his knees. He was not unfamiliar with this position, but as he tried to lift his hands to undo my belt the seams of the dress protested loudly, creaking and snapping.

"Watson, I can't-- I can't, not like this," he panted, looking up at me hopefully. "But you know what things I could do if I were not trapped--" I cut him off with a dark laugh and undid the belt and buttons, holding tightly to his head the whole time. I reached into my pants and drew myself out, quite hard as well.

"I assume you can take it from here," I said with a smirk, and he leaned forward, laying a kiss against the tip, still glaring up at me. I groaned as his hot tongue trailed up my hard length, leaving behind a cool trail. I sighed in pleasure as his wet mouth took me in, his tongue stroking against the sensitive spot beneath the tip, his cheeks tightening as he sucked in. I could feel his breath quickening as he panted through his nose and moaned around my cock. It felt glorious, and I clenched my fingers in his hair, tugging him firmly forward, impaling his mouth and throat without warning. He didn't gag as I had hoped, but he struggled, trying to push against me feebly, causing him to bob on my length so wonderfully.

"Holmes!" I gasped, and I felt him moan around me once more. His hands dropped from my trousers and he was now trying to palm himself through the fabric of the dress even as I fucked his mouth. I nearly came at the sight, but instead I pulled him away. He licked his lips, which were now red and swollen, as if he'd applied lipstick. With his cheeks flushed and eyes framed by naturally thick lashes he looked well done up. He looked up at me and bit his bottom lip.

"Yes, Watson?"

I didn't reply; instead I knelt and pulled him to his feet. He wobbled slightly, and I used his lack of balance against him once more, this time throwing him facedown on the bed. I lifted his voluminous skirts and knelt, marveling at the shape of his rump framed by the lace and petticoats. I swore quietly as I saw the garter belt and black stockings pulled up tightly over the round curve of his arse. He groaned and writhed, his own cock trapped against the bed, his feet unable to get proper purchase in the heels. I could only imagine the pressure and friction he felt each time his feet slipped, and I planned to do nothing to assist him in that area. Instead I traced my hands lightly along his arse, and he trembled beneath me, bucking when my fingers trailed over particularly sensitive patches of skin. 

"God!" he gasped breathlessly, his voice muffled by the quilts, his feet scrambling for purchase. I drew my fingers up the inside of his legs, ghosting ever so gently over silk and skin and his moan was long and pained, his legs shaking, knees trying to collapse out from beneath him.

"Please Watson, please," he pleaded, and I ignored him, continuing my slow teasing. Next I laid my mouth against the crease between his hips and his arse, kissing, licking and nipping my way upwards. He trembled with anticipation, and I gave him the satisfaction of feeling my breath ghost over his most private place before dropping further and pressing my teeth to the back of his knee, and he shouted, short and helpless and ever so lovely.

"John, please stop!" he cried, and I could hear how broken his voice is, how much he needed it as he pleaded.

"Please, I can't…"

I finally took mercy on him, and spread his cheeks to lay my lips against his hot entrance, and the sound he made couldn't be described in words. It tore him apart as he shuddered, and he had ached so long for contact that he pushed back fervently against my mouth. I gave him my tongue and another strangled cry rolled from his chest as he thrusted back. I held his hips firmly in my hands, controlling his helpless bucking long enough to slip my tongue past his tight ring of muscle, and then words were falling from his mouth again, my Christian name being spoken in a decidedly unfaithful way as he rocked into my hands, fucking himself on my tongue.

I pulled away and he whined. I slapped him, hard across the backside as chastisement but he just gasped and writhed.

"Control yourself," I said sharply, gripping his reddening cheek and squeezing tightly. He made no other sound, just the panting of his shallow breath, and I leaned down over him, presenting two fingers to his puckered mouth.

"Suck," I command, and he licked them, drawing them in and gliding his tongue over them with enthusiasm.

"Is your pussy wet for me?" I asked in a harsh whisper, shoving my fingers deeper into his mouth. He choked in shock, his body humming beneath me with energy. I slid my other hand down, fingers rubbing against the lingering moisture left from my tongue and mouth.

"God, yes you are. So needy, aren't you?" I crooned into his ear, and Holmes shook uncontrollably, a shallow tone squeezing from his chest as my fingers stroked both his tongue and his entrance below.

"How tight is it? You look over-used to me, like you'd let any man fuck you." He tried to speak around my fingers in his mouth, shaking his head in denial. I hummed with appreciation and removed my fingers a few moments later. He breathed heavily and simply waited, and this time I didn't tease as I slipped in my middle finger first, quickly followed by my pointer finger. He groaned; I knew it was too fast to be completely comfortable but he was slick from my tongue and loose with need, and I quickly worked up to three fingers with relative ease.

"You took them all… Is this enough for you?" I asked, curling my fingers down until Holmes moaned and writhed beneath me. I could hear him searching for words, and so I twitched my fingers every time he opened his mouth to speak, stealing the air from his lungs until he groaned in frustration.

"No- ah! No, not enough," he managed to pant out in between gasps, and I grinned darkly. I stopped my fingers long enough for him to answer my next question.

"And what do you want?"

"More!" Holmes demanded, lifting his hips up into the air. I laughed and leaned over his back, pressing him into the bed, dipping my mouth close to his ear and whispering softly.

"Tell me exactly what you want or I stand up and leave this room, leaving you here like this."

"Please, Watson," he started with a stutter. I pulled my fingers out slowly and he whined, starting up again quickly. "Fuck me!" he gasped, and I paused in my retreat. "I need you inside me."

"I just was inside you, with my fingers," I said cooly, standing up, now completely off his back. He whined and tried to move backwards towards me but couldn't, with no leverage under his arms. 

"I mean- with your cock," he said, so quietly I barely heard him. His face was blushing bright red, and I sighed as if convinced to do a great inconvenience. I leaned back down, running my hands along his hips softly. He writhed against me, feeling my length pressed against his backside.

"Such foul language," I chastised, slipping two fingers back inside him easily. He moaned encouragements, and I licked my own palm to moisten it before wrapping it around myself. Moments later I was pressing into him, giving no quarter, no time for him to adjust to the sensation of me filling him. He was so tight, so tightly wound, and with his earlier work with his mouth I was already close to the edge. I didn't try to slow my rhythm or hold back the snapping of my hips; I drove into him like a cheap whore and he breathlessly took it, gasping when I happened to hit upon his prostate. I adjusted my hips just enough to miss it each time and he whimpered, desperately trying to cant his hips into my thrusts, but I grabbed him under the waist and held him firm.

"This isn't for you to enjoy, whore. You're just a hole." He replying moan was impossibly deep, and I had to place one hand against his back to steady myself. Just a few more thrusts and I was coming heavily, squeezing his hips so fiercely I knew they would bruise. I slumped over his back and collected myself for a few moments as he trembled beneath me, trying to keep his body still.

I pulled out of him with a shudder, laying kisses down the back of the dress. As I rolled him over he looked at me expectantly, and I smirked, pushing him up further on the bed so it supported his hips and thighs. I bent over the side of the bed and pulled up a sash he'd clearly intended on wearing with the disguise. I reached up and tied it around his head, covering his eyes. He patiently indulged me now without question, his hands clenching in the quilts. I left him for a moment, and returned with a small knife in my hands. I twisted it in my hands and sat next to his legs on the bed, letting my voice fall over him.

"I'm afraid the dress is ruined, and I'm not going to be able to remove it intact." Holmes hummed thoughtfully beneath me, still quietly waiting for my next move. I let the flat side of the blade slip down against the inside of his thigh and he inhaled slightly. I watched his face, seeing his mind work in the way he raised his eyebrows from beneath the blindfold. His mouth twitched slightly, a hesitant grin forming as he licked his lips. I drew the knife up, the cold flat side of the blade sliding up his thigh towards his groin. He shifted slightly with a sharp inhale as the blade crossed over from the silk stockings to the bare tender skin so close to his straining erection. The look on his face was breathtaking; fear and excitement fighting as he bit his lip, straining to hold his body still.

I removed the blade and he quivered in anticipation of where it would fall next. I grabbed a section of the skirts and tore through it, the fabric ripping and falling away from his waist. The black corset peeked out from where I had torn a hole, and I grabbed the edges of the gash with both hands, ripping it open as far as I could. Holmes' face flushed as his body jerked beneath my violent assault on the fabric. I slipped the knife between the corset and the dress and cut away more, rending the hole larger with my hands until the front of the dress fell open, revealing his wide chest straining to be free of the binds of the corset.

He said nothing, not even moaning as I continue reducing the dress to shreds, tearing the skirts away and revealing his legs, his erection strained and painful against his stomach. I watched him inhaling slowly, focus on his face as he clearly was spending every ounce of his self control to remain still and quiet despite his aching need, denied repeatedly by me.

"Sit up," I commanded, grabbing the front of the corset and pulling him bodily up. I slipped the sleeves off his arms and he was finally completely free from the dress. I pulled the tattered remains of the dress out from beneath him and laid him back down against the bed. HIs hands fell to the corset to begin undoing the lacings but I grabbed his wrists, setting the knife aside for a moment. 

"Don't touch," I said quietly, and he growled from beneath the blindfold. I pulled it off, his brown hair splaying wildly around his head, only to tie the sash around his wrists. He looked up at me, his brown eyes deep pools of need. I dipped my head down, and he expected a kiss, but I stopped a few inches away, laughing softly.

"Not yet," I said, and laughed again as he growled once more in frustration. I slid back down his body, picking up the knife once more. He lifted his head and tried to watch.

I slipped the sharp blade under the laces on the bottom of the corset where it lay against his stomach, and carefully drew the blade up until one single piece of the bindings broke. Holmes inhaled sharply, but remained still as ever so slowly I moved to the next length, cutting it just as slowly. This time the corset ever so imperceptibly loosened, and Holmes shuddered.

"We'll be here all night if it takes you that long," Holmes quipped, laying his head back down against the bed, trying to catch his breath.

"Don't tempt me," I replied wryly. I slipped farther down his legs and tucked the knife into his boot, the cold metal pressing against the inside of his ankle. I drifted back up to his hips and ghosted kisses along the tender skin. HIs legs twitched, but the cool pressure of the knife in his boot was a reminder to hold still, not that it was in any real position to harm him. Still, tossing about wouldn't be the healthiest of choices, and he knew it. I continued teasing him until small noises starting escaping his lips, and then I slid back down, pulling the knife out and untying the boot. I slid it from his foot and he sighed, flexing his ankle. His relief was short lived as I soon let my fingers trace softly along the top of his foot. He jerked instantly, incredibly ticklish on his feet.

"Watson!"

I laughed and closed my hand tightly around his foot, soothing him with a firm massaging grip. He slowly relaxed, finally laying back down with a sigh. I stood back up and used the knife to loosen a few more links of the corset before returning to his other foot, freeing it as well and giving it the same treatment. This time when I returned to his groin he writhed beneath me with more enthusiasm, his tone no longer begging but more insistent. I was quickly losing patience myself, and so I made quick work of the stockings and garter belt, pulling them off and trailing kisses down his legs as my mouth followed the retreating silk.

I slid up his body with the intention of teasing him with another kiss against his jaw, but he surprised me and looped his bound wrists behind my neck, pulling me down into a fierce kiss, his tongue invading my mouth, taking me and driving all other thoughts from my mind for a moment. I pulled away, breathless, and suddenly the feel of the corset between his chest and mine was unacceptable. I slipped out from beneath his arms and quickly slid the knife under the remaining bonds, cutting it away with a few short strokes. The knife fell to the floor as Holmes inhaled deeply, harsh marks left in his skin from the tight fabric and boning. But now he was my Holmes, proper and wide and strong beneath me.

He caught his breath for a few moments, before expertly slipping his hands free of the bonds I'd placed him in as if it were nothing but smoke. He smiled up at my darkly, and before I could lean down to kiss him again I found myself underneath his powerful body, his hips grinding into mine, his cock heavy and leaking. He held my wrists down next to my head and simply rocked against my hips, moaning deeply.

I exhaled sharply a the proper sound of his voice rumbling deeply in his chest and pushed up against him, our cocks brushing against one another. I was already hard again, and he chuckled, the sound dark and warm and low. It sent a shiver down my spine. He opened his mouth, dipping his head to speak against my neck, lips and eyelashes fluttering against sensitive skin until I was writhing beneath him.

"I'm going to fuck myself on you until I see stars," he growled, biting at my neck. I could do nothing beneath the weight of his body except moan in reply and buck up against him. He slipped both of my wrists into one hand and reached down with the other. I slipped inside him with no resistance at all, his body slick with my own release, ready and hot for more. I cried out; it was almost too much too soon, and as I arched my neck Holmes laid kisses against it, grinding his hips down until all I could do was gasp and roll my hips.

Holmes laid his free hand against my chest, fingers undoing the front of my shirt until they could rub harshly against my nipples. He was rocking on my cock, angling until he hit his prostate with every thrust, driving himself towards release. His deep throaty moans left me breathless, and very soon he was slamming down against me harder and harder, grunting and panting as he neared release. I ached from overstimulation until I began begging him to release.

"Holmes - please, come Holmes!"

He reached down between us and took himself in hand, and it was not even five strokes and he was coming hard, his body squeezing around mine until with a shout I came again, straining against his hand binding my wrists, everything going white.

When my senses returned Holmes was laying softly on top of me, half on the bed with one leg looped between my own, his head nestled in my neck. I tipped my head down slightly and kissed his wild hair, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, trailing my fingers through that unruly mop of brown.

"Next time… pick a larger dress. And let me help you," I said softly. He chuckled deeply in reply, and spread his hand possessively over my chest. I moved my hand down to lay it over his, and drifted off into a light doze.


End file.
